


End Of The Day

by explicitomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, M/M, and doesn't know what's going on, and harry and louis bumble along and survive out of pure luck, basically this entire fic is a fan service to myself, i'll update smut tags later !, liam and zayn have a "no homo" thing going on, liam unleashes his inner rambo, louis doesn't trust harry at first, niall is very into the apocalypse, sort of, zayn was high the first few days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:35:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitomlinson/pseuds/explicitomlinson
Summary: The apocalypse is nigh and only Niall really knows what he's doing, Liam is /too/ into killing things, Louis and Harry take turns hiding behind each other and survive out of sheer luck, and Zayn never really knows what's happening. So, of course, they kick ass.





	End Of The Day

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is ridiculously self indulgent and definitely more louis/larry centric than i planned but i can't help myself thank  
> p.s: this is currently unedited, so let me know if you spot any obvious mistakes!

Panting, he willed himself to not look back.

He knew that would slow him down, that it increased his chances of tripping, ultimately leading to his death; he had seen the films and he had played the video games - he was no amateur. The groaning sounded as if it was getting closer, yet further away at the same time. He didn't know how many there were anymore; there could be one, there could be five, there could be ten. The only thing he knew was he was  _not turning around to look_.

His panting was becoming louder, his limbs burning as he pushed on. He had a large kitchen knife in a makeshift sheath, looped around his waist, but he was not risking fighting when he didn't know how many there were. His only option was to keep running and hope for the best.

The problem was they weren't human: they didn't tire as he did, they weren't panting for breath, their limbs dragging, hitting branches and sometimes hanging in ways they shouldn't be, yet they just kept going.

He was starting to slow, his heart pounding against his ribcage at an alarming rate and his lungs burnt even more than his legs. He was about to give up, turn around and fight whatever masses had accumulated in the chase, ready to stab himself if it came to that point. That was until he saw the house looming in the distance, surrounded by scorched land and a large, metal fence. The surface was smooth and presumably thick. There was no way he was getting over that.

He waved as he approached, ignoring the burning in his sides and his heart dropping as he reached the gate and it didn't open. "Please, open the gate!" He yelled, frantically pounding his fists on the smooth metal. It was warm to the touch, heated by the sun beating overhead.

He sighed, turning around and unsheathing his knife, ready to fight. There was more towards twenty of them, lumbering towards him with uneven gaits. He heard a click behind him, turning his head slightly to see the gate ajar. He breathed out a sigh of relief, pushing it open and slamming it shut just as the first one slammed against it. The rest followed, their groaning loud as he closed his eyes, resting against the heavy gate.

He pushed himself off the gate, finally opening his eyes as he heard another click. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him; four men and one woman holding rifles, pointed directly at him, each with murder in their eyes.

Slowly, he put his hands up in surrender.

* * * 

The music was loud, his heart beating in time with the bass, chest and back sweating amongst the masses of people. His friends had disappeared in the crowd, leaving him to his own devices, swaying along to the music as he sipped his drink. It had been his dream to attend a music festival since he was ten years old and now, eleven years later, he was finally realising that dream. His sister had surprised him with tickets for his twenty-first birthday, making up for the fact that he couldn't travel to America for the celebration as he originally planned.

Now that he was here, feeling the energy and atmosphere of the crowd, flowers in his hair and random people complimenting him on his outfit, Harry couldn't believe he ever thought America would be better. In that moment, nothing seemed better than the English countryside, being surrounded by people who shared a mutual bond: their love for music.

He didn't think anything of it when he heard the screams - he had heard people always get a little too rowdy at festivals, especially if they've had a little too much to drink. It was when the screams were coming closer, people running and pushing through the crowd, that he realised they were screams of terror. His heart was hammering in his chest, standing on his tip-toes to see what was happening in the crowd behind him. People were running everywhere, pushing others down in their haste to get away from whatever they were running from. He couldn't see what they were running from – there were no animals around, at least not ones that could harm you.

That's when Harry saw it, as if it was in slow motion; a woman was chasing a man, her skin ashy grey, the blood running down her chin a stark red in comparison. He ran into another person running, making him stumble slightly. He gained his footing quickly, but not quick enough – she grabbed him by the arms, her fingers barely wrapping around half of his bicep, jumped on his back and dug her teeth into his neck. He screamed, the sound becoming gargled as she pulled, taking a chunk out of his neck. Harry dropped his drink, mouth opened in a silent scream. He had never seen anything like it before, not even on the Discovery Channel. It was primal, vicious, the way she knocked him to the ground and just kept eating, blood all over her face and shirt now, the man's arm outstretched as if he were still reaching for an escape.

Someone running into him broke him out of his gaze and he started running. He didn't stop, he didn't look back, he didn't scream. He was following his most basic instincts, running back to his camp and gathering everything he could. He rolled up his sleeping bag, shoving it into his backpack, along with the bottles of water and flashlights strewn around. He would have left some for Nick and Cara, but he didn't know where they were, if they were still alive, if they would even come back for supplies before fleeing. He didn't completely understand what was happening, but he felt like it was every man for himself, something he didn't take lightly.

Tightening the backpack straps and throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder, he started towards the woods on the opposite side of the field. With majority of the people still in large crowds near the performance, he figured he would have plenty of time before the. . . things made their way into the woods. As he trudged through the woods, avoiding low branches and high roots, he realised he didn't have a weapon. He had a small switchblade they had been using to cut up food while they camped, but that would make him have to get uncomfortably close to one of those things if he was attacked. He sighed, checking the area around him was clear, before taking off his backpack and digging through it, looking for the knife. When he finally got it, he flicked it so the blade was out, ready.

He walked for a long time, his feet growing sore in his less-than-adequate shoes, his back and shoulders aching from the heavy packs. His phone was off, to conserve battery for when he needed it most, so he couldn't check the time, although it looked to be around late afternoon by now. He would have to find somewhere safe for the night to get rest, wake up early in the morning and try to make it to a town. It would be easier if he knew where he was, but he didn't have the best sense of direction and wasn't sure which direction he had been travelling in as he went deeper and deeper in the forest.

It took a few more hours and one ironically beautiful sunset for Harry to find a place to stay for the night. It was a small cliff overhanging a large lake, one obviously used for jumping off. It was a small ledge, with a rock to his back and the drop off to his front; this was one of the major moments in his life he thanked whatever higher power was out there that he wasn't a restless sleeper. He settled his bags between two rocks, grabbing his sleeping bag and unrolling it. He left his shoes on in case he needed to make a quick getaway and snuggled inside. He turned his phone on, still on 60% battery, thankfully, and was immediately ambushed with dozens of texts. Some were from Gemma,  _harry, I heard what happened, are you okay?_ Then, two hours later,  _harry, please, I'm scared._  He quickly typed out a response, telling her it was okay, he was safe and away from the problem, but he had no service to send it. Of course, he was in the middle of nowhere. The rest were from Nick.  _What the fuck is happening? Where are you?_

_Harry where is our shit_

_Where the fuck did you go you prick_

_Fuck you_

He sighed, turning his phone on airplane mode and setting his alarm for five o'clock. He put it right near his head, volume turned down so he didn't attract much attention when the alarm went off, and dozed into a nightmare-filled sleep.

* * * 

Niall was a family man. He loved his wife, he loved his son, he loved his dog and he loved his home. He worked nine to five at a small firm in town, came home to a happy wife and an energetic child and had everything he had ever hoped for. His wife, Natalie, was perfect. She was a little bit shorter than him, naturally blonde hair and eyes that changed from blue to grey depending on the day. One of her best features, to Niall at least, was that they shared one major interest – the apocalypse.

As Niall was growing up, he was obsessed with the apocalypse. He read books about it, played video games based around it, watched movies portraying the mainstream view of the apocalypse, and he did his research. It was an odd fascination, one that worried his family at times and made the very conservative Christian families in his town deem him as the anti-Christ, but he was okay with that. He loved what he did and nobody could change it. For a while, he couldn't find anybody that shared the same passion as him; sure, his friends enjoyed playing, half of them zombies, the other half survivors, and  _everyone_  loved The Walking Dead, but it didn't run as deep for them as it did for him.

That was until he met Natalie. They met at a sort of "roleplaying" event, where people would sign up and try to live in a zombie apocalypse inspired world for two days and the survivor would win up to a thousand dollars. The event organisers would dress up as zombies and chase the participants down. You were provided with (fake) weapons, a backpack with a few essentials, a canteen that was filled with water, a sleeping bag and you were sent on your way. You had to fight it out, sometimes with other participants as well as the zombies. If you survived the two days, you were rewarded with a cash prize. Niall had won a prize every year.

The third year he went, he met Natalie. Niall was confident in his ability to win, being almost obnoxious about it, walking along in the middle of the night (he didn't sleep that year), singing  _Highway To Hell_  as loud as he could and overall not paying attention. That's how he tripped over Natalie, who was still in her sleeping bag, trying to sleep like any normal human would be doing. He would never let her forget how she snorted – genuinely snorted, like a startled pig – grabbed her fake knife and stabbed him in the thigh. Although the knives were fake, they still hurt when you were stabbed and he had a bruise for weeks.

She apologised endlessly, getting out of her sleeping bag and helping him up, desperately trying to get him to turn around so she could examine the back of his thigh. He refused, but couldn't stop laughing at her reaction, eventually getting her to crack a smile, too. They were so loud three zombies found them, but they dealt with that. They had been the perfect team from the start and now, five years later, they still were.

Niall had just gotten home when he heard Natalie scream. He ran inside, wielding his briefcase like a weapon, stopping at the sight of his wife holding a knife that was covered in blood, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Nat, what happened?" He walked forward, dropping the suitcase, reaching for her. She was shaking slightly, but her hand was steady, the knife still. As he approached her, he saw the source of the blood on her knife. Their neighbour, Paul, was lying on the floor, blood leaking from his head and chest.

"I didn't know which one would kill him so I did both," she said softly, her voice sounding as if it was far away.

"What do you mean?" He rested his hands on her shoulders and she relaxed immediately, dropping the knife on the kitchen bench – dangerously close to the broccoli, but Niall didn't feel like it was time to complain about contaminated vegetables – and leaning on him.

"I thought it was a joke, you know how they are, always trying to prank us. But, he just kept coming and then I  _smelt_  it. They never describe the smell, you know," she rambled and Niall reminded her to take slow breaths.

"Darling, I don't know what you're talking about," he said softly, moving his hands down to her waist so he could hug her.

"Look at him, Ni. Can't you smell him, too?" She asked, twisting her body to look at him. But he was looking at Paul.

His skin was an ashy grey and some parts of his face looked as if they were covered in scabs. His eyes looked milky, but Niall couldn't tell if that was because he was dead or something else; he had never seen a dead person before. He had blood on his hands and some around his mouth. There were  _chunks_  of something clinging to his clothing and he smelt – Niall took a deep breath through his nose – he smelt just  _dead_. There was no other way to explain it; he smelt like the time they had rented a cabin to go camping with their families and a possum had died in the roof. But on top of that he smelt like blood that seemed almost fresh.

"Did he bite you?" Niall asked calmly, closing his eyes and hoping to God that she hadn't been bitten. He didn't know what he would do without her, especially if what they thought was happening actually was – especially with Cooper.

"No," she sounded like she was crying. "He's been dead for a while, that's probably-" her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "That's probably Mary and Delilah's."

Niall didn't have time to react as someone banged on their back door. He let go of Natalie, picking up the knife and skirting around Paul. Natalie walked backwards, her face pale in fear. "Go get Cooper and pack some bags. I'll deal with this, then come and help, then we have to pack up the car." She nodded, colour back in her face and a determined look on her face. Natalie always worked better when she had a purpose – something to do, someone to save. It was what she was about.

He turned the corner slowly, peeking around the wall to look at the back door. "Jesus fucking Christ," Niall lowered the knife, moving forward quickly and opening the door. "Hurry up and stop making noise." He closed the door behind them, making sure it was locked.

"Have you seen what's happening out there?" His co-worker, Hamish asked, moving forward without thanking Niall. "It's bloody crazy, I-" he cut himself off as he rounded the corner and saw Paul. "Jeez, you do this Horan?" He looked down at the knife in Niall's hands. "Remind me not to make you mad."

"It was Natalie, he tried attacking her." Niall kept the knife in his hand, just in case, taking the stairs two at a time. "Nat!" He called out, seeing their bags already packed at the top of the staircase.

"In Cooper's room!" She called back. Niall walked in, Cooper crying as he clutched his mother, Hamish silently following him. "Put that away," Natalie told him, Niall giving the knife to Hamish and pushing him out of the room. "He doesn't want to leave, he's scared."

"Buddy," Niall leant down, Cooper moving his arms from around his mum to Niall. "Hey, don't cry. It's alright," He kissed the top of his head, rocking him back and forth. "Nat, can you go with Hamish and pack up the car? Make sure you grab as much as you can from the garage." She nodded, face grim, kissing Cooper's forehead before walking out of the room.

"Are we going to die, daddy?" Cooper asked, eyes red as he looked up at his father. Like with most children, Cooper's dad was his hero – he wasn't afraid of anything, he took care of his family and he had cool hair. Cooper wanted to be like him when he was older, although Niall always knew he could do so much better. Despite the fact that Cooper is only five, he can read at a third-grade level and he knows so much about the world. He's smart in more than one way and right now Niall wishes that wasn't so.

"Of course not," he reassured him, stroking his hair. "But we are in danger if we don't leave now. So you have to come with mummy and I, okay?" Cooper nodded, wiping his eyes. "I'll help you pack. Make sure you grab everything you want, because we probably won't be coming back."

"Okay," Cooper sniffled, moving around his room and grabbing his favourite toys and clothes and putting them in his suitcase. Niall helped, grabbing as much as he could and carrying the suitcase down the stairs when they were finished.

Outside, Hamish and Natalie had almost finished packing the car, Niall putting the suitcase in the back with Cooper and helping but the last bottles of petrol, water and weapons. "I'm assuming you have a fortress somewhere, where nothing can get in?" Hamish joked, nudging Niall in the ribs.

"Of course," Niall answered like it was obvious, which it should have been. They had decided to buy a house that was protected around a year into their marriage. If the apocalypse never happened, it was a nice – albeit very protected – holiday home where they could camp with their families. It was in the middle of the woods, about a two hour drive from their town, completely surrounded by a large, solid metal fence. Nobody could get in or out if they didn't want them to. It was huge and had cost them next to nothing; their families had banded together, gathered second hand materials and built the house themselves. It was huge, with eight bedrooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen, two living areas and a mini library. It was their dream home, with little aspects of their families strewn throughout.

They finally packed up, Niall driving to let Natalie have some rest and because Hamish (who invited himself along) didn't know where they were going. There were reports on the radio, telling families to stay in their homes, lock their doors and stay safe, but they knew that's not how it goes. They needed to get out of their before their town was overrun with zombies. It was the first time Niall let himself think of them as that. Despite his love for the apocalypse, it was still such an odd concept that it was hard to grasp. He knew they would never know, or understand, the science, of how these people come back to life and why they had a taste for human as well as other animals. They would never know how it started; never know who the first person to pass it on was. They would never know if there is a cure and if the people that have been killed could have been saved.

The thoughts plagued him as he drove; Natalie putting a CD on half-an-hour in so Cooper didn't have to hear the reports. It went dark about an hour in, making everything seem more ominous. Hamish was keeping Cooper company in the back, playing with some of his toys and telling him the plot of Gilmore Girls in the form of a fairy-tale. It was all very weird.

There was a collective sigh of relief when they turned into the make-shift driveway of their home. They hadn't ran into any trouble on the way there, which wasn't surprising considering they were in the middle of nowhere and the virus most likely hadn't spread far yet. Niall asked Hamish to wake Cooper up, as he'd fallen asleep when Hamish had started telling him the plot for season two. They approached slowly, their headlights on high beam to see if there was any of the undead lingering in the forest. There were none until they drove right up to the gate, the lights shining on one lone figure.

Niall stopped the car, but left the headlights on, grabbing his knife. The thing stood up from its crouched position, slowly turning around towards them. It squinted, holding its hands up in front of it to block the harsh light. Zombies weren't sensitive to light were they? That question was answered when the man slowly put his hands up in surrender.

Niall sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Let's see who it is."

* * * 

The best day of Liam Payne's life was the day the zombie apocalypse started.

Not only did he not have to work for his wanker of a boss anymore, he got to test himself by beating his head in with various office materials. Some may claim it was a psychotic break, some may claim it was because Mr. Jones was already infected with the disease - either way, Liam had the opportunity to kill his boss and it was one of the best experiences of his life.

As he fled his office, and sped through the streets of Freyton, Liam tried to reason with himself.  _Surely_  any man that had been pushed to his limit, and even further, who had stayed up countless nights to complete work weeks before the deadline because Mr. Jones wanted to see him suffer, who had lost a girlfriend (and, even more devastating, their puppy) due to late nights and missed dates, would snap and beat their boss to death with a keyboard.

Either way, once Liam had gotten home, packed a bag and looted the nearest store for any necessities that weren't at home, he wiped his hands clean of any crimes committed in the hours before, ready to start afresh. Equipped with a backpack full of goods, a steady 4WD that would withstand a stampede, a large machete (don't ask) and a fully charged iPod, Liam was ready to take on the world, to fight zombies and basically fuck shit up.

The thing is, Liam was never an avid believer in the zombie apocalypse, but he binge watched The Walking Dead regularly and liked to believe he had a decent chance at surviving. Liam also looked spectacularly badass with his cropped hair and muscles that even Gaston would cry with envy at, which (he hoped) would decrease his chances at being targeted by people less civilised than he. And, if the films were right in any way, people turned uncivilised very quickly.

He wasn't sure where he wanted to go, just choosing a direction and driving. His town wasn't small, but news spread quickly, and he already saw people frantically running from others, banging on windows of cars and people's front doors. Liam was happy he decided to get out when he did.

He drove for a few hours, singing along to the songs on his iPod and looking out for other cars and large groups of people. Despite the fact that he looked intimidating, he would have been easily overpowered by a large group of people, especially if they had weapons. He hadn't been around this part before and he was slightly scared. His petrol was dipping just under half and he hadn't seen houses or a store around in miles. If he broke down in the middle of nowhere, he would have to carry all of his things to the nearest store – which could still be miles away – and it increased his chances of being attacked, by the living or dead, tenfold.

It happened when he finally found a petrol station. He filled up his car and walked into the station to pay - just in case no one in this part of town had been infected - when his car was stolen. He had been an idiot to leave his keys on the front seat, but there was no one around. Or, at least, that's what he thought. He yelled in frustration, kicking over a stand of potato chips and tugging at his barely-there hair.

He jogged out of the store, the people long gone, but at least they had left his things. And a note.  _Sorry we stole your car, one of us was injured and we just really needed it. We wish you luck and may God be with you_.

_Christians_ , Liam thought.  _Ironic_. At least they had left his machete and all of his bags, giving him a semblance of a chance. He still wasn't happy about it, especially as he had just paid that car off. With a sigh, he walked back into the station, gathering snacks and more bottles of water. He also took some lighters, because he knew how long he would be stuck in the wilderness for, and he was not making a fire the good old fashioned way.

He looked at his watch, seeing it was already four in the afternoon. He herded his bags inside, going behind the counter - ignoring the overwhelming questions his brain was throwing at him about the store owner's whereabouts - and finding the keys to lock the front doors. Once he did that, he barricaded the front door with various shelves of food, smiling at his handiwork.

With one last sweep of the place, wielding his machete and a promise to himself to swing first and ask questions later, he settled in. He unrolled his sleeping bag, using his backpack as a pillow and opening a packet of crisps. He plugged his iPod in to charge it, turning the music on and closing his eyes in bliss. It had been an exhausting day, but his early bedtime meant he would be up by sunrise tomorrow, ready to keep moving.

This was Liam's time; he was happy, he was armed, he was deadly. He was a force to be messed with and would not let himself be one-upped again.

Liam was not as deadly as he originally thought he was. Travelling in the forest rather than on main roads seemed like a good idea at the time, in order to avoid being seen and possibly killed by other survivors and walkers, but once you're in the thick of it, without a compass or a map to guide you, it was a terrible idea. He had only ran into a couple of walkers (he didn't know what else to call them, so stuck to what he knows) so far, but the terrain and the warm sun was tiring enough.

He was yet to run into another survivor, but he supposed most people would be sticking to trails and main roads. As it turns out, watching hours of The Walking Dead and Man Vs Wild does not mean you're Rick Grimes or Bear Grylls. It means you're a person that wasted a lot of his life watching shows that, although seeming educational, are as useless as sitcoms. It also means you're a person who ends up being lost in the woods and doesn't understand basic rationing skills. His backpack was significantly lighter, despite the fact that he had only been in the forest for two days. He was genuinely starting to fear he wasn't going to make it and in the end the walkers wouldn't be his undoing, it would be hunger. Liam did not plan to die during the zombie apocalypse of  _hunger._ He was going to go out like a hero, fighting a herd of walkers or fighting for his territory (that he is yet to claim). He was destined for greatness.

It was on the third night he finally found reprieve. He had been walking since sunrise, going through four bottles of water and a bag of chips and his feet were aching, but he kept going. He hadn't found a place to camp out yet, but he still had a torch and he could go a night without sleep if desperately needed. He reached the top of a hill, looking out to see if there were any options for camping and if there were any walkers he was going to have to fight off. The moon was bright tonight, shining in a way that Liam thought only happened in movies. It provided good lighting though, allowing him to see further than he originally thought. He stood on his tip-toes, sure he was just delirious with stress and dehydration, but no; there it was, a kilometre away maximum, a huge house surrounded by woods. It had to be the luckiest Liam's ever been in his entire life.

He took off at a sprint, running in the direction of the house and making sure he kept in a straight line. He was not going to get lost in the woods and lose this house. He would have ultimate protection, a place to charge his iPod maybe, a place to stock up on food and water, a proper place to sleep and maybe even stay for an extend period of time. It probably had real beds and pillows and maybe even running water. It had only been a couple of days, but Liam was already missing the privileges he had before. And that's what they were,  _privileges_. He couldn't see it when it was his everyday life, where a shower and breakfast were guaranteed things in the morning and if he was thirsty he could just get water from his tap. Now he just wishes he didn't forget to pack soap.

Liam's stomach dropped as he approached, slowing into a fast walk, before stopping right in front of the property. What Liam couldn't see from further away is the fence is much taller than he expected – at least three metres high – and, with a knock on the side he confirmed, much thicker than he originally expected. There was no way he was getting in, the fence without grooves and there was nothing on the top to even throw a rope over and climb. He circled the perimeter, keeping his hand on the surface of the fence, but it was useless. There wasn't one gap, not one single groove he could use to hoist himself up. The only gaps were tiny, where the hinges for the gates were. Liam dropped to his knees in defeat, pushing his backpack off his shoulder. There was a keypad on the smaller gate, but there was no saying what the code was, if it would lock for good after a certain amount of tries – there were too many variables Liam was not willing to mess with.

He bit his lip, willing his tears away. He was strong, he was fearless, and he was not going to let something this small get to him. There was a slightly concealed driveway, it probably lead to a road – he could get out of this situation better than when he came into it. He just had to have faith. He stood up slowly, fists clenched at his sides. He leant his forehead against the metal, cool in the windy night around him, and took deep breaths. Nobody ever described how  _harrowing_  the apocalypse was, especially when you were doing it alone. Liam loved to be alone, loved to have time to himself to reflect, to do what he enjoys; but he didn't like being alone for this long, not in a situation as stressful as this one. You never realise how much you need human interaction until you don't have it anymore.

He was so invested in his self-pity he didn't hear the car coming, or see the headlights until he saw his shadow cast on the fence in front of him. He turned around slowly, bringing his arms up to block the lights from hurting his eyes. He hadn't seen unnatural light for a while, none brighter or bigger than a torch at least. His movements were slow, not wanting to anger the people in the car, as he raised his hands in surrender. He held it for a few seconds, lowering his hands slowly as he heard the car turn off – the lights still unfortunately on – and someone get out of the driver's seat. They went straight back up as he saw the knife, which was – already covered in blood?

Liam took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He couldn't seem erratic or like a threat, not while this guy has a knife that's  _covered in blood_. Who says it's a walker's? It could be a human's blood, there's no way he could know. He looked to the sides, deciding to run to the left if he were attacked. The trees were closer together, harder to get a car through and he assumed (hoped) he was faster than the blonde guy.

"Who are you?" He spoke and Liam startled. He was Irish. He doesn't know why that surprised him so much, but it did. He supposes he shouldn't be that surprised, Irish people can be a little over the top and, by the looks of the house, this guy definitely was.

"My name is Liam Payne, I'm twenty-three years old, I'm from Freyton, my car was stolen from me and I've been wandering the woods for days now. I was just looking for a place to bunker up for a while, man, no trouble." He spoke too quickly, sounding almost paranoid. The man regarded Liam almost calculatingly, looking him up and down, from his combat boots to his dirty fingernails, right up to his eyes, holding the contact. Liam didn't back down, not wanting to seem too weak.

"Have you killed anyone yet?" The man asked and a chill ran up Liam's spine at how he said "yet", as if it was inevitable.

Images of him bashing his boss's head in with a keyboard flooded his mind. "No, I haven't. You're the first humans I've ran into for days." It was half-truth and he seemed to mull it over for a minute.

"Okay. I'm going to drive the car in and you can just follow." He turned on his heel, not saying anything else and Liam gathered up his things. He was confused about what just happened, but he wasn't going to question it. If this stranger was happy inviting Liam into his home, who was Liam to disagree?

He started the car, the gate opening automatically, the man driving the car in. Liam followed, moving to close the gate after him but it was already closing on its own. "You're meticulous," Liam whistled, impressed. The house was even more huge than it appeared far away, two stories and one of the biggest houses Liam had ever seen in real life. Not only that, but the backyard was huge, too, with space for more than one car, a sandpit and play area and a huge grass area. It was an apocalypse dream home.

"We don't mess around when it comes to the apocalypse." A woman got out of the car, regarding Liam carefully. "How'd you survive this long?" She asked, leaning against the bonnet of the car as another man joined the first, unpacking the boot.

"I avoided main roads, stuck to the forest. There aren't that many walkers around yet, so I was lucky." He told her, her lip quirking up in a smile.

"You a fan of The Walking Dead, then?" She asked, smiling wider when Liam nodded. She stepped forward, holding her hand out. "I'm Natalie Horan, that's my husband Niall and that's . . . Hamish." She finished and Liam shook her hand.

They weren't paying attention to the conversation, Hamish telling Niall "You're fucking crazy, Horan, God bless you." Liam smiled slightly at that. "I'm Liam Payne, travelling on my own."

"Not anymore," she smiled at him and he smiled back. She moved to the back of the car, opening the door and Liam was surprised to see a child. She unbuckled the car seat and picked him up, putting him on her hip as he hugged her close. "This is Cooper, he's three but smarter than Niall and I put together," she laughed and Niall snorted. "Come on inside, bring your bags. Darling," she turned to Niall, a fond smile on her face. "Are you okay to bring them in?"

"Of course, schnookims," Hamish answered instead and Liam snorted, trying not to laugh. He cleared his throat as he saw Cooper staring at him.

"Yeah, you go ahead, show Liam around. And get him to have a shower, he stinks." Niall winked at Liam and he blushed, rubbing his arm self-consciously.

"Sorry, I forgot to pack soap," Liam explained sheepishly as Natalie lead him inside the house. She just laughed, brushing it off. The house was warm and cozy inside and looked like a typical camp cabin in an American movie, like something that would be in Cheaper By The Dozen. Liam loved it. There was a large map on the wall, showing the house, different lakes and rivers in the area, where other houses and cabins were and where there were roads. Liam was surprised by how much dedication they had.

"We update that every year," Natalie told him, putting Cooper down. He still stayed close. "We would call up park rangers and ask for any changes or sometimes just come down here ourselves and have a look. If you want to say, we've got things sorted here, Liam."

Liam couldn't believe the hospitality, stumbling over his answer thanking her. He always thought that most people during the apocalypse would have an "every man for themselves" kind of attitude, but Niall and Natalie had had exactly the opposite so far. During the tour of the house, it wasn't hard to see why. Despite the fact there was only eight rooms, you could fit dozens of people in the house, so they had the space for others, their plumbing was hooked up to a small lake near their house so they wouldn't run out and their electricity and hot water was solar-powered, so if the power did eventually cut out everywhere else, it wouldn't affect them. They had truly thought of everything and Liam was overwhelmed.

They had dinner, prepared by Liam as a thank-you, and Liam was giving his own room. He finally had a bed to sleep in and Liam couldn't believe he had this kind of luck – the apocalypse was turning out to not be that bad.

* * *

Louis was hiding in a tree.

At first, he was hiding from cannibalistic humans, and now he's hiding from murderous humans, apparently. They were covered in blood; in was on their clothes, on their skin and in their hair. Louis felt sick at the sight. He was more of a flight not fight kind of guy and ran as soon as one of those  _things_  started chasing him. He was a long distance runner in school and went on the occasional morning jog, so he still had it in him. He had a large stick in his hands, not able to find any other weapon before he left the festival, and he was willing to fight whoever came his way with it.

The group of people ran off, back in the direction of the festival, and Louis let out a sigh of relief. Of course, the one time he decides to go to a festival, the fucking apocalypse would start. If that's what was happening – Louis wasn't sure if those things could be considered zombies, because they looked so different from what he's seen in movies. They had no rotting flesh, no skin falling off, their arms weren't extended in front of them and there was minimal groaning. All in all, he was confused.

He dropped his stick to the ground, waiting a minute or so to see if it attracted anything. When the coast was clear, he started climbing back down, brushing off his jeans and tightening the straps of his backpack. It was still daytime, his watch still worked and he still had water (and vodka, although he doubted that would be of much use) in his backpack, so he felt like he was set. Ready to survive the apocalypse with one backpack and a large stick.

He spun around and headed in a random direction, his shadow long in front of him. He figured he must be heading west, since the sun rose in the east and was now at his back. He can't believe he'd chosen one of his favourite outfits for the day and no one was going to see him in it because some guy went mental and bit someone else. It was an unfair life.

He used the stick like he imagined a wizard would, using it to help him climb up steep slopes and to climb over large tree roots. The trees in the forest were insanely tall and thick, the foliage blocking out most of the sun, only small bits shining through. It was surreal, how peaceful it was, with birds chirping and a distant sound of running water. He figured since he could still hear animals he was safe, heading in the direction of the water. He would have to tip the vodka out and replace it with water, which felt like one of the bigger losses of the day; vodka is expensive.

He continued trekking, feet dragging and eyes growing heavy. It wasn't even that late, around 5pm, and the sun was still shining, but Louis was overcome with fatigue. He found a small clearing, relatively concealed by trees, and began setting his things up. Sleeping bag, backpack, water. He gathered sticks, twigs and some dry leaves to make a fire. He had done this plenty of times when he was a child, his father thinking it was a good skill to learn. Thank God for that.

He was settled by the time the sun was setting. He was taking small sips of water and nibbling on some biscuits, watching the sun set. It made him feel nostalgic, although he couldn't understand why; sunsets had never been particularly important to him, nor had he ever bothered to watch one. They just  _were_  to him. Maybe now his days seem limited, each moment was to be cherished, each colour change of the sky - from a blue, to orange to pink with the occasional streak of purple - was a beauty that should be appreciated. Who knows how many he had left?

He sighed, packing his things back in his backpack and laying down. It was dark now, stars twinkling in the sky and moon bright as his eyes felt heavier, eyes burning with fatigue. He had never slept under the stars, either. The world was ending and Louis was just beginning to live.

* * * 

Louis didn't wake up with the sun as he expected to. Rather, he woke up hours later, head pounding and mouth dry as he overheated in his sleeping bag. He yawned loudly, despite the fact that he wasn't tired, stretching his limbs as much as he could in the constricting fabric. He rubbed his bleary eyes, looking at his watch as he did so. He startled as he saw that it was already ten o'clock and he was already hours behind schedule. He kicked the sleeping bag away, standing up quickly and frantically packing up his things, ignoring the way his head was spinning and how dizzy he was. He drank some water – which had gone disgustingly hot in the morning sun – and was on his way, heaving his backpack over his shoulder.

He wandered for a few more hours, listening out for zombies (he still wasn't sure what to call them) and anything that indicated fresh water. He stopped a few times, one to wash his body off and another couple to fill up his bottles. He kept the vodka bottle in his hand, because it was easy to smash and use as a weapon; but that was a last resort. Louis was hoping to not have to kill anyone or anything as he wandered, desperately wishing there was someone with him, but also desperately hoping he didn't run into anybody.

It was a couple of hours later, nearing three o'clock, when he finally found someone else. Although, he didn't know if it was a "someone" he would want to find. He approached slowly, careful not to make too much noise, crouching behind a bush to inspect the scene in front of him. There was a man, tall, probably around Louis' age, just standing in the middle of a small clearing. He was swaying back and forth slightly, facing opposite Louis. He was dressed in a hideous yellow shirt with bright flowers on it and could be spotted from a damn mile away. Louis sighed internally; how this guy had managed to stay safe was beyond him. Unless. . .

Louis dismissed the thought. He was probably just a guy enjoying nature. With his long hair, short shorts and – sandals? – he looked as if nature was his forte, and Louis wasn't a judgemental man. Except, his movements almost looked unnatural, as if he was possessed by something.  _Or maybe he's infected with whatever those guys at the festival had_ ; Louis thought and dismissed it immediately. Those guys were savages, ripping into people's throats and chasing men in packs. There was only one way to find out.

Cursing himself under his breath, Louis stepped forward. This is exactly how people die in zombie movies and yet, Louis was still doing it. He shook his head at himself, holding his stick out in front of him like a sword. As he walked closer, he realised the swaying was joined by  _humming_  – or maybe zombie-like groaning? He almost scoffed at his own inner monologue. He was too paranoid. With one more step, he would be close enough to jab the man with his stick. He realised he didn't have any weapons and that a large stick would only do so much but, as the annoying white person he is, he continued on anyway. He's the kind of guy to poke a strange man in the woods with a stick during a zombie apocalypse, but at least he's not the kind of guy that would hide the fact that he was bitten from his group, he mused. He wouldn't be the most hated character, at least.

He finally drew up the courage, stopping his inner monologue, and poked the man with the stick. With a yell that reminded Louis weirdly of Tarzan, the man spun around quickly, arm stretching out. Louis screamed, jumping back, but the man only knocked the stick out of his hands, breaking it in the process. Louis hurried to pick the stick end closest to him up, holding it out in front of him, squinting at the man in front of him. The yellow monstrosity was a button up, but was currently unbuttoned with no shirt underneath. There was blood on his chest, which had Louis wary, taking another step back and leaving the stick – and his gaze – trained on the man in front of him. They were eyeing each other up, almost as if it was some peculiar stand-off, before he opened his mouth to speak.

"The blood is mine," he said, Louis' eyes flicking back down to his chest where the blood was smeared, before meeting the man's green eyes. "I didn't hurt anyone."

Louis wanted to as if he was bitten, if he was going to go crazy and rip his throat out; Louis wanted to be a  _professional_  about it, but all that came out was, "You hurt my stick."

The man's eyes flicked down to the broken stick in Louis' hands and he honked out a laugh. Who even was this guy with his hideous shirts and obnoxiously endearing laugh? "A true disaster," he grinned, scratching at his palm. "I am sorry about that, you scared me."

Clearing his throat, Louis stood up straighter, stick still aimed at the man in front of him. "How'd you get the injury?" It felt weird trying to remain authoritative after the way he screamed when Tarzan-man spun around, but he had to at least  _attempt_  to.

He looked down towards his shoulder with a blush. "Oh, I uh," he shook his head, pushing his hair off his forehead. When he looked back up at Louis, the blush was high on his cheeks and he was biting his lip. "I tripped over and got stabbed by a twig." Louis snorted, trying to keep in a laugh and the other man smiled slightly.

Louis cleared his throat, making his face serious again, the other man following suit, drawing his brows into a frown. Was it a mockery? Louis couldn't find himself to care. "So you're not," Louis waved the stick, gesturing towards him, "infected?"

"Nah, haven't even ran into one of those things yet," he said, almost in a carefree tone, waving his hand dismissively. Louis regarded him for a few moments, before finally lowering the stick. "Does that mean you trust me? Cool," he continued before Louis answered, stepping forward and holding his hand out. "I'm Harry Styles, nice to meet you, despite the circumstances."

Louis met his gaze, before looking down to his outstretched hand, back to his eyes. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, jutting his chin to gesture at his hand. "Louis," he finally returned the greeting, shaking Harry's hand. How was it still soft? Even if Harry wasn't a zombie, he had to be some rare creature with an affinity to ugly shirts and soft hands.

"No last name?" Harry smirked, and Louis shook his head. "Playing hard to get, I see."

Louis scoffed, but didn't confirm or deny. He couldn't believe he was being hit on in the middle of the woods during the apocalypse. "What were you doing out here?" Louis asked, sitting down and gesturing for Harry to do the same. Harry shrugged, sitting across from Louis, stretching his legs out and leaning back, his palms flat on the grass. Louis averted his eyes.

"I ran from the festival," Harry explained, his eyes closed as he shook his hair off his face. The sun was hitting him in all of the right ways, making him look positively radiant under the rays. "I thought the woods would be my best bet, and so far I've been right."

Louis didn't reply, eyeing Harry warily. He wondered what kind of person Harry would be in a zombie show. He wouldn't be the person that got bitten and wouldn't tell, he seemed too honest and blatant to play that role. . . maybe the underdog? He looks buff under the hideous shirt and his thighs and calves look strong where they're exposed to the sun.

"How about you, mystery man?" Harry asked eventually, after he had been silent for an uncomfortably long time.

Louis cleared his throat, ignoring Harry's knowing smile and staring at the trees surrounding them. "Same as you; I was at the festival, making my way to a set, and I saw some guy bite another. It was fucking insane, so I ran. There was a big crowd there, so I managed to get out before it got too messy." He said, shuddering at the memory.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't reply. Louis unzipped his backpack and took out his bottle, taking a few gulps before putting it back. The silence was awkward for him, but he didn't think Harry felt the same way. He was just sitting there, tanning. What an odd person.

"I'm going to propose something," Harry spoke up once again. Louis painted him as the spontaneous type that saved the day in weird, accidental and unexpected ways. He opened his eyes and sat up properly, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. "I think we should stick together. You seem to know what you're doing and I know what I'm doing. You have a giant stick, I have an army knife. You, for some reason, have decided to keep vodka for the judgement day and I'm okay with that," Louis didn't correct him with the vodka, just nodding along. "I'd prefer not to do this alone and we have more chance of survival if we have each other's backs."

Louis hummed in thought, taking a drink from the vodka bottle to make himself look like a real badass, before clapping his hands together, making Harry jump slightly. "I have one condition," he stated and Harry nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward. "Please change your shirt," Harry barked out a laugh, leaning back, but Louis kept on talking. "It's horrendous, Harry, please. Every zombie and crazy person is going to see us from a mile away."

Harry shook his head, smiling sheepishly. "I only have this one. I didn't have time to grab others before I ran," he pouted, and Louis sighed.

He shrugged his jacket off, ignoring Harry's gaze on his arms, and handed it out to him. "Take it," he shook it until Harry took if from his arms. "You'll blend it with the trees and it still suits your shorts."

"Thank you for noticing," Harry grinned and Louis snorted with a roll of his eyes. What did he sign himself up for?

* * * 

Apparently, Louis had signed himself up for bad jokes, even worse puns, and inappropriate footwear.

"Did you not think to grab sneakers before you ran?" Louis asked for about the thousandth time, Harry huffing like he did every time. "Why did you think it was a good idea to run from zombies in Jesus sandals?"

" _Excuse_  me," he scoffed, stopping to look down at his ridiculous shoes - Louis didn't know what was worse, the shoes or the shirt - and wiggling his toes. "They're  _Birkenstocks_. Also, Jewish people don't believe in Jesus." He added, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh, sorry. Are you Jewish?" Louis asked, cheeks flaming slightly in embarrassment. Harry shook his head, but didn't elaborate. Louis had apparently also signed up for cryptic answers. Harry was swinging their makeshift weapon in his hands, something Louis found incredibly dangerous. They had tied the switchblade to a new stick, in a shitty attempt at a spear recreation. They had used a strip of Harry's dad shirt after a long argument, Louis refusing to ruin his favourite shirt. Despite Harry mumbling that it "is just a white shirt" (just like Harry's Birkenstocks were just glorified Jesus sandals, Louis thought to himself bitterly), they decided Harry would sacrifice some of his shirt this time and Louis would have to next time.

The sky was starting to darken, Louis anxious as the shadows in the woods grew darker. He would have liked to have already been setting up camp right now and starting a fire, but Harry insisted they push forward and cover more ground. Maybe Harry was just the idiot in the show that got everyone killed. Between his inadequate footwear, his sinful (and not in a good way) shirt and his habit of laughing loudly at his own jokes, it was a fair assumption to make.

Harry cleared his throat, a clear sign he was going to start another round of jokes, when Louis thought he heard something. He stopped, Harry continuing merrily on his way as Louis strained his ears. He swore he heard a twig snap and the rustling of leaves, but they were on a clear path, undisturbed by the nature around it.

"Hey, Louis. Why did the turkey cross the-" Harry started, ignoring Louis shushing him, "road? Because he's no chicken!" Harry burst out, slapping his knee as he laughed at his own joke. Personally, Louis didn't get the joke, but was more worried about the increasing sounds than some inaccurate joke.

"Harry," Louis said sternly, and Harry's laughter was cut short. He frowned as he heard what Louis was, moving closer to him. He seemed afraid, huddling close.

"Should we keep going or attack?" Harry asked and Louis took in a deep breath. He wasn't ready to be the leader and make tough, life or death situations. He would've ran if it was him on his own, but he was carrying one of Harry's backpacks after the younger boy had complained for twenty minutes straight that his back and shoulders were hurting.

"Just keep going, but quietly," Louis whispered and Harry nodded. The mood was suddenly sombre, Harry's shoulders falling and his feet dragging tiredly. They should have stopped a while ago, Louis knew it, and should have trusted his instincts. If he was going to be responsible for someone other than himself, he was going to have to stick to what he knows and what he feels is right initially.

They continued on, every step careful, eyes combing the tree line every so often, looking for shifting shadows and things that seemed out of place. It was genuinely dark now, Louis digging his torch out and shining it on the path in front of them. They had been wandering for a while and hadn't come across anywhere they could stop or even rest. Louis knew it would either come to them staying up all night, or strapping themselves into a tree, Katniss Everdeen style. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should've said no to Harry's proposition. They've been a "team" for less than a day and already things were going wrong.

Louis startled as Harry stopped suddenly, Louis running into the back of him. Louis opened his mouth to complain, before looking over Harry's shoulder and seeing what had him frozen. There, a few metres in front of them, was a zombie. Louis' stomach lurched as he realised it was crouched over a small animal, hands digging into its carcass and scooping whatever it found into its mouth. Louis dry heaved and averted his eyes. He would not let himself, Harry or anyone else around him become  _that_.

"Harry," Louis spoke up, his voice quiet even in the silent night. "Do we want to kill it or run?" His hands were shaking slightly, his body strung tight, his muscles tensed, ready to run.

"I think. . ." Harry started, slowly stepping backwards, forcing Louis to follow suit so they didn't run into each other. "We should. . ." His voice was a whisper and Louis wanted to punch him in order to stop the dramatics, but refrained. Harry was loud when he was surprised. He stopped dead in his tracks, his muscles visibly tensing as a twig snapped under his sandal, painfully loud in the quiet surrounding them in the woods. "Run!" He yelled as the zombie's head snapped up, the lower half of its face covered in blood and chunks of muscle, Louis heaving at the sight.

Harry pushed him into action, Louis setting off, away from the path and into the woods. He could hear Harry stumbling after him, cursing at his stupid sandals. Louis could relate. Beneath that, he could hear the zombie; its running sounded frantic, its groans getting louder as it became more desperate for a bigger meal. Harry still had the make-shift spear, holding it tightly as he followed Louis' lead. Louis risked a look back, meeting Harry's frantic eyes; he looked terrified, eyes wide, cheeks and forehead flushed. His hair was flying behind him in a way that would have been comical if there wasn't the risk of death, and something even worse, chasing them.

They stumbled into a clearing, the zombie well behind them now. They slowed their pace, ready to fight now that they had the space and the option to run wherever they pleased. Louis' head snapped up as he heard groaning, too close to be the zombie still bumbling towards them in the woods. He turned slowly, not wanting to startle the predator, nudging Harry as he did so.

There was another, standing about twenty-five metres away, staring at them as if it wasn't sure what it wanted to do with them. "Harry," Louis spoke softly, monotone, the zombie cocking its head to the side at the new sound. "Turn around, slowly." Louis shouldn't have said anything. He realised too late that Harry was still frantic, his breaths deep and his skin still flushed. He turned quickly, holding the spear out.

The zombie ran at the movement, bounding towards them like a strangely excited puppy. Louis squealed, pushing Harry in front of him. "Harry, kill it!" He yelled, Harry starling, but holding the D-grade weapon in front of him. The switchblade sank into the zombie's flesh with a disturbing  _squelch_ , Louis gagging at the noise. Harry didn't look far from vomiting himself, his face pale, his mouth an O of surprise.

"I fucking stabbed it," Harry announced, his voice strained, yet smug.

"You did, I'm proud," Louis slapped him on the back for his effort, but was worried. The zombie from the woods hadn't emerged yet, and Louis didn't think he would've forgotten about them that easy; he seemed eager to have a main meal after his entrée. They also had another problem: the zombie right in front of them seemed to be stuck on the knife, Harry having stabbed it with too much gusto.

"What do I do?" Harry dragged the last word out, hopping from foot to foot, still holding onto the mediocre weapon. They were severely underprepared for this situation, Louis realised.

"Yank it out!" Louis' stress levels were rising by the second, with the knife lodged into the zombie and Harry being stuck, and the disappearance of the other zombie. He was trying to keep an eye out at all angles, making sure Harry was keeping a safe distance from the zombie at the end of his spear and searching the thick foliage of the forest around them.

"It's stuck," he was sweating with the exertion and Louis turned to help him, grabbing onto the stick and pulling. They both tugged, but the zombie just walked forward. Harry huffed, frustrated, blowing his hair out of his eyes. "Louis!" He warned, eyes wide as he looked behind Louis. The zombie was coming straight for him, Louis barely having time to veer it away from Harry and put his arms out in front of him to stop it from coming too close, before it was on him, teeth crashing together right in front of him. Its arms hung useless at its side, an advantage for Louis.

It's not what Louis expected a zombie to look like up close; there was no rotting skin, although its eyes were milky and its face was caked with blood and chunks of squirrel - Louis tried not to think of that too hard. He tried to think of his options - he could kick it away and run, or he could keep pushing it away and wait for Harry to free his knife from the other monster. Louis didn't know which one was a more reckless plan at this point.

It leant most of its weight on Louis, making him buckle slightly under the pressure. Its teeth were inches from his face, its breath washing over him and making him slightly light-headed; his senses were overwhelmed, with the stench of the zombie in front of him, the noises of the zombies combined, and Harry's panicked mumbling and the disturbing thought that this zombie, minus the blood and guts on its face, looked to be about Louis' age. His grip loosened for a moment with the distraction, the zombie pushing him to the ground.

He landed with a  _hmph_  and a curse, slightly winded at the impact. The grass was soft underneath his back, tickling his neck and providing a completely different sensation than what was happening above him. He gritted his teeth, pushing with all of his might, bending his knees and getting his feet underneath the zombie to try to push him off as its teeth got uncomfortably close to his neck. He was sweating, his hands shaking with the exertion. He tried to ignore Harry's triumphant cry when he pulled the spear out - the knife still lodged in the zombie's chest, unfortunately - not needing any distractions as the zombie got frighteningly close to landing a bite on Louis.

Suddenly the zombie went slack, its body flopping and Louis was able to flip it off easily, scrambling back from it. He steadied his breathing and noticed the arrow lodged into its brain. Louis looked around frantically, noticing Harry staring down at his own zombie, bewildered. "What the fuck?" Louis spoke up, nudging the zombie on the ground with his foot. Harry pulled the knife out of the other one, scrunching his nose up at the gunk that was left on the blade and wiping it on the grass.

Louis squinted, looking out at the trees. It was completely dark now, so it was hard to see in the shadows, but he was sure he saw something move. "Harry, pass me the torch," he instructed and Harry looked confused but passed it over anyway. Louis shone it in the direction of the movement and his heart started pounding as he saw a glint of metal. "Who's there?" He yelled, breaking his number one rule when he's in the dark and faced with a potential threat, but obviously you find yourself breaking your own rules during times of stress. "We can see you, just come out!" His hand was shaking slightly and Harry stepped closer to him, fear in his eyes.

Another arrow was shot into the field and Louis flinched, moving himself in front of Harry. He heard the impact of the arrow hitting something and saw a zombie fall to the ground behind them. They could have died.

Finally, someone emerged from the woods. A  _few_  someone's. "Are you alright?" A woman approached them, concern in her blue eyes, running her hands over their faces and arms. She couldn't have been much older than Louis himself, but seemed very mature and was already taking care of Harry and Louis as if she had known them for years. She was sweet, although the gun strapped across her back was a bit intimidating. Louis tried not to stare at it, not wanting to show any weakness; although, if they had seen the entire fight with the zombies, they had already seen him pretty weak.

"You're fucking crazy, Horan," Two more men were approaching, one laughing with delight written in his eyes, and one looking like he would rather be anywhere else or even ready to shoot the other guy between the eyes. Louis' lips quirked up at the picture.

"Sorry, I guess we should've introduced ourselves before we started shooting," The shorter of the two spoke up, running his hand through his brown hair, laughter lines showing around his eyes as he smiled at them, offering his hand to shake. "I'm Niall Horan, this is my wife Natalie."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Harry smiled back, shaking both of their hands and Louis followed suit, frowning at Harry. Since when did he talk so formally? Harry met his eye and shook his head slightly, confusing Louis even more.

" _I'm_  Hamish," the other man stepped forward, offering a hand. "I'm a workmate of Niall's." He smiled widely, Louis snorting in laughter slightly as he saw Niall roll his eyes. He covered it with a cough, but Niall noticed and smiled.

"It's lucky we found you out here," Natalie spoke up, a concerned frown on her face. "We weren't going to come out this late, but Liam convinced us to. Thank God he did." She was rubbing up and down Harry's arms in a soothing motion and Louis resisted the urge to pout; why was nobody rubbing his arms soothingly?

"Liam?" He asked instead, putting his irrational thoughts to fatigue. Niall nodded.

"He's a guy back out our house, just keeping an eye out. We have cameras and stuff, but we don't like to leave it unguarded." Niall explained, ripping his arrows out of the zombie's skulls. Louis averted his eyes.

"Your house?" Harry spoke up from his hushed conversation with Natalie. For the first time since they had met, Louis was suspicious of Harry. He seemed different somehow, around these people, like he was putting on a persona. Louis didn't like people that put on personas.

"Yeah," Natalie's hands were still moving up and down Harry's arms. Harry's arms that were  _protected by Louis' jacket_  and most certainly didn't need rubbing. "It's about a kilometre from here, maybe? You're welcome to stay the night, decide if you want to stay longer or continue on the road tomorrow, if you'd like? I feel like we could all use a decent sleep." She was right about that, and the prospect of having somewhere proper to stay, with a roof over his head was overwhelming to Louis and there was no way he would turn the offer down.

"Thank you so much, we would appreciate that a lot," Louis spoke first and Harry nodded with a grateful smile. Natalie smiled at him and Louis felt guilty for how annoyed he was towards her for rubbing Harry's arms.

"Of course," she said, gesturing for them to follow her. Niall and Hamish were already heading back into the woods, torches on and lighting up the dark night. "Whose idea was that?" She pointed down at the stick, looking awed yet amused.

"Louis'," Harry boasted proudly. Louis really had to ask him what was going on, because he was acting entirely too weird. "The knife was the only weapon we had, but it was too risky if we were attacked, so he suggested we make it into a spear with some stupid stick he was carrying around." Natalie's mouth quirked up at that.

"That's a very smart idea," she praised and Louis just nodded groggily. "Although, next time try and see if you can find any vine-like leaves, some soft bark or even some moss and tie it with that, also. It'll make it stronger and less likely to break." She offered them advice, and Louis was shocked. It was such a weird knowledge to have, but overwhelmingly helpful, especially in their current situation.

"Thank you, you're very smart," Louis said, his words slurring slightly.

Natalie laughed, clapping him on the back. "Come on, sweetheart. We need to get you some sleep."

* * * 

Louis woke up disoriented, surprised to have something soft to sleep on and no sunlight blinding him as he woke. It took him a while for him to remember where he was, sinking in relief when he finally did. He hadn't seen much of the house the night before, mainly because he was so tired he could barely walk. Natalie had been dragging him along for a while, until Harry just shook his head and picked him up, carrying him the rest of the way. Louis tried not to blush at the thought.

Speaking of Harry, he was nowhere to be found, although the other bed in the room was unmade and Harry's ugly shirt and sandals were on the floor. Louis stretched, cracking his back and his knees before sitting up and observing the room. There are two beds, each situated in the middle of the room with a couple of metres space, and a bedside table, between them. Pushed onto adjacent walls were dressers, with some of their belongings strewn on top. Louis' stick was leaning against the side of the dresser. Everything in the room was a rich, dark wood, including the floors. His duvet was a soft blue and the walls were an off-white colour. It was very homey, and Louis was eternally grateful Natalie and Niall had let them stay, even if it was just for a night.

He was just getting up to survey the room when there was a knock on the door. Clearing his throat, Louis called, "Come in." He was surprised to see Niall rather than Natalie, holding a glass of water and a change of clothes.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, placing the glass on the bedside table and the clothes on the end of the bed. He crossed the room to sit on Harry's bed and regard Louis as he waited for an answer.

"Wonderfully," Louis sounded almost breathless as he spoke. "It was amazing, thank you so much for letting us stay."

Niall waved it off, Louis gulping the water as he did. "You were in need, and you seem like capable young men. You'd make a good edition to our little team." Louis stopped dead, meeting Niall's eyes, whose gaze was unwavering.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly. With a little bit of training, you would work really well to guard the place and we can see what your other strengths are. Natalie and I are here to survive for the long run, grow old together like we promised," Niall said and Louis' heart contracted in his chest. He loved married couples like Niall and Natalie, they made his stomach warm and his heart sing. "We want to make sure Cooper gets the best life he can, considering the circumstances."

"Cooper?" Louis didn't remember hearing about a Cooper in any conversation last night, although he was barely awake for most of it.

"He's our son," Niall said proudly, chest puffing slightly.

"Cute! How old?" Louis asked excitedly and Niall laughed. He couldn't help it though, he loved children and was glad there was a child in the ranks.

"He's three, but acts much older," Niall smiled. "I think he got it from Natalie, since she's such an old soul at heart, but she would never admit it." Louis laughed, Niall shaking his head as the smile wouldn't leave his face.

"You love your family a lot," Louis observed. It was a quality that he found very important in people; they way they treat other people, especially their families, is a great tell to see what kind of person they are. "I'd like to join your team." He decided.

"Great," Niall smiled, standing up to shake Louis' hand. It felt very final, Niall's grip in his own, and Louis was slightly overwhelmed with how quickly that just happened. "Get changed and meet us in the kitchen. Natalie made breakfast."

Louis obliged, changing into the fresh pair of clothes. He took closer notice at the pictures hanging in the hall and, sure enough, there were plenty of Niall's family, Cooper included. Louis smiled at the sight of the bright-eyed boy, keen to meet him; if he's anything like Niall, Louis' probably going to love him. When he arrived downstairs, he saw everybody else was already awake; Natalie was flitting around in the kitchen with Liam helping her, Niall and Harry were on the floor playing a board game with whom Louis assumed to be Cooper, and Hamish was sitting on the lounge and reading a book.

"Good morning," Natalie said loudly, prompting everyone to look up at him, including Cooper who held a sceptical frown on his face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very, thank you." He averted his eyes from Cooper's (and Harry's) stare and returned her smile. She gestured for him to sit at a breakfast bar. "What time is it?" He asked.

"It's eleven o'clock. We were going to have a late breakfast and then we were going to show you guys around," Niall spoke from the floor, staring at the game in front of him in concentration.

"We have a lot of land," Natalie continued as Niall yelled out in triumph and moved his piece in the game. "It's better that you know your way around now you're part of the team." She smiled at him warmly and Louis' heart soared. It had been a long time since he had been so warmly welcomed by strangers and it was refreshing, especially with the world descending into chaos the way it is. He settled in on one of the stools at the counter, happily making small talk with Natalie and Liam as they cooked. Louis had many talents, including playing piano and being able to balance an egg on his eye, but he wasn't sure how he could integrate his talents into everyday life in this (what he assumes to be) post-apocalyptic world. But, being with the group of people he is now, he found that he wasn't worried about about their impending doom and what role he would play, because as long as he had these people with him, he was going to be alright.

* * *

The tour around the property was long, and included stops at properties close to theirs, in order to meet their neighbours and supposed allies. Natasha and Niall showed them around the open stables where horses were grazing the grass in the afternoon sun, the garage where there was another car, a quad bike and a few motorbikes, the backyard entertainment area, completed with a built-in trampoline and sand pit (for adults and children alike) and, finally, the armoury.

Hamish had kept up a running commentary as they went around the property, barely falling silent as he took in the weapons the Horan's had stashed in the shed. "You're fucking crazy, Horan," he whistled as he walked into the space, taking in the guns, bow and arrows and - Louis squinted to make sure he got this right - grenades, packed into the space.

"We have everything we need here and ammo in the shed next to this one. If we don't run into any problems, lads, we can stay here for the long run. Maybe take more people in, expand the place. We can make a right life here," Niall said and Natalie smiled at him softly, Cooper hanging off her back. "Grab a gun of your choice," he continued after a moment of silence, slinging a shotgun over his shoulder. "We'll all have machetes for a quiet kill."

"Wait," Harry spoke and Niall stopped, eyeing him warily. Louis assumed that Niall did not click with Harry as much as he did with Louis, and that in itself made Louis question Harry even more. If Niall, whom had seen so welcoming to Louis and Liam, was wary of Harry, then maybe he had a point in being so. "I'm confused, everything's happening so fast. Quiet kill?" He asked and Niall pursed his lips.

"Gather weapons as I talk, we can't waste time," Niall instructed, as he began gathering weapons for everyone, and ammo. "We don't know much about these... beings. We know that they are cannibals; we know that they're fast, but are not very smart. They bleed, so their hearts have to still beat – hit them in the head or the heart to kill them. They're attracted by noise more than anything else. Smell is their second strongest sense, although our scent can be masked very easily. Their eyesight is horrible, you have to be blind not to see that," he grinned at his own joke and Louis saw Natalie roll her eyes. He fought back a smile. "So, that's why we want a quiet kill. Try to be stealthy, be light on your feet when walking through the woods and for God sake talk quietly. Natalie and I already have a system of speaking through gestures, we'll teach you later. Until then, be as quiet as possible, because we don't know how many are out there. Still confused?" He asked Harry after a short pause and Harry shook his head. 

"Good, let's go," Natalie chirped, Cooper still on her back, holding a small hunting knife in his hand. Louis ignored the churning in his gut. 

There was only the one exit out of the property, making it harder for people to attack and invade the home without the Horan's knowing. Louis realised that they had planned this for a long time, thought of all possibilities and built the home to make it as safe as possible for themselves – and they had now invited three basic strangers into their home. He had noticed that Harry had slowed his pace to walk in step with Louis, who was lagging behind as he admired the beauty of the forest around him. The foliage was thick, letting shafts on sunlight filter in on occasion. The heavy cover gave the surrounding area a soft glow, and Louis wished he could take some pictures so he could remember the view forever. 

"Louis," Harry whispered once they were significantly behind the rest of the group, Liam throwing them concerned looks every once in a while. He was walking with Hamish, who was talking louder than he probably should be in the situation, but Niall hadn't told him to shut up yet, so Louis left it, too. 

"Yes, Harry?" Louis asked, keeping at least a metre of space between them. It wasn't that he didn't trust  _Harry_ , he had to after spending those few days with him and trusting him with his life, he just didn't trust his intentions at times. 

"I don't think . . ." he cleared his throat, tapping the flat side of his machete against his leg. "I don't think we should stay here." 

"Excuse me?" Louis stopped, mouth open as he regarded Harry. His face was serious, a thoughtful crease to his brow. "Harry, they're offering us a place to stay, food, protection,  _weapons_ ," he lifted his machete as to prove his point. "Why wouldn't we want to stay here? Don't be ridiculous, Harry." He rolled his eyes and started walking again, not wanting to lose the group in unfamiliar land. 

"Louis," he grabbed Louis' wrist, the pressure gentle, yet the gesture itself enough to stop Louis in his tracks. "I don't trust it. They're nice people, but – what about when the supplies start running low? When suddenly Cooper starts to grow and needs more food and those four extra mouths are too much to feed? When ammo starts running low? They're a family, Louis," he regarded Louis with wide, honest eyes. "Family is before anything. They're not going to keep us around when things start going to shit. It's those three against the world – especially in this world." 

"I don't-" Louis started, but Harry cut himself off with a frustrated huff.

"You don't have to make a decision now," he rolled his eyes, but leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Just think about it, okay? It won't be paradise for as long as we live." He had just finished when someone cleared their throat behind them. Louis looked over Harry's shoulder and saw Liam standing there, eyebrow's raised.

"Are you done whatever you're doing? We've stopped for a drink break, but are going to be walking again soon." Liam said, regarding them suspiciously. Louis didn't blame him. They had only been there one night and Harry was already conspiring and planning a great escape, one that didn't need to happen. Niall would be the kind of guy that would happily give them food, weapons and other supplies if they decided they wanted to leave, that much was clear.

He didn't understand Harry's motive, didn't understand why he was coming to the conclusion that they had to leave so suddenly. He nodded to Liam, Harry dropping his arm and staying in place as Liam and Louis walked away from him.

* * *

The trip to the neighbour's house went well. It took them about two hours to walk there, although Niall told them it would be shorter when Cooper wasn't with them. The occupants of the house next to Niall's were Johnathan and Harper Tuman. They were both retirees in their late sixties, yet didn't look a day over forty-five. Louis aspired to look as good as them when he was old, but didn't like his chances in the new world they were living in. They were similar to the Horan's, their house guarded by a large fence and barbed wire. They had an armoury slightly bigger than the Horan's, but their land was smaller. They were as dedicated and organised as Niall and Natalie, and Louis respect them a great deal. Anybody that was in shape the way they were at their age and had their shit together that much, Louis respected. 

They got back a couple of hours before dark, Cooper sleeping as he was propped on Niall's hip. Harry stalked in front of the group, machete glinting slightly in the dusk light. "Louis," Liam said his name softly and Louis stopped in his tracks. "Can I talk to you once we're inside? When dinner's cooking, meet me in the stable." Liam nodded and left Louis standing there, confusion behind his eyes. Harry was watching him from the gate, where he was holding it open for Niall and Cooper. Louis cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, not making eye contact with Harry as he made his way past him.

"What did he want?" Harry asked, jogging slightly to catch up to Louis.

"Nothing, yet," he added apprehensively. Harry huffed and pushed past Louis to make his way into the house first. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He was tired, his body aching slightly with the unfamiliar exertion that came with vigorous exercise. When he walked into the lounge room, Natalie and Hamish were collapsed on the couch while Liam draped himself over an armchair, Niall seemingly putting Cooper to bed and Harry nowhere to be found. Louis imagined, if this was still the usual world, Niall would come back into the lounge room and complain about how tired he was, and demand Louis order takeout. Louis would ask what he wanted, and Niall would sigh dramatically and retort,  _"I don't give a shit, Louis, as long as it's not pizza."_ Louis would get pizza just to spite Niall and he would grumble about it, until his own Indian food came and he would apologise and share it with Louis. It could have been fun, it could have been something that Louis got used to. 

He sighed as he sank into the armchair across from Liam, watching tiredly as Niall came into the room, simply falling to the floor and laying face-down, spreading his arms. "Do I have to cook dinner?" he grumbled, not bothering to cover his mouth when he yawned.

"No, Harry's got it," Natalie countered, nudging Niall's ribs with her foot. He grunted, but otherwise didn't move.  Louis' eyes flicked up, meeting Liam's gaze. Liam gestured to the side door and Louis sighed but moved to get up. 

"I'll be back." No one looked up, so Louis shrugged and opened the side door, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. It was something he noticed in the first day or so after the festival – the air was crisp, fresh. It felt clean as it ran through his body, his breaths easy and relaxed and he breathed in air that wasn't polluted. It had a different smell, a different feel, a different everything. Looking at the sun as it disappeared behind a white cloud, Louis felt a new appreciation of nature rise in his chest. It was beautiful out here, a beauty that wasn't even possessed in the grand gardens in London. It was something about the  _realness_  of the greenery around him, of the fresh air tickling his skin and the sound of the horse's nicker nearby, that made Louis feel invigorated, made him feel like  _home_. He couldn't leave this place, he decided. He would make sure he could stay, no matter the circumstances. 

"So," Liam startled him as he approached, Louis turning around to regard the man. He hadn't talked to Liam much since he had arrived, but he seemed like a kind man. His eyes held warmth and his smiles were plentiful, as was his laughter. Although, with the thick muscles of his arm, the strength of his jaw, and the authority in his voice, it was obvious Liam could be just the opposite just as fast. "What are you and Harry planning? Is it a take-over? If it is, it's not going to work." Liam's tone was conversational as he moved closer to the stable to stroke the horse's neck. 

"Of course not!" Louis exclaimed and Liam's eyebrows rose as if he didn't believe Louis. Louis didn't blame him, his tone sounded guiltier than he had ever heard it. "I wouldn't know how to even begin  _planning_  a take-over, let alone executing one." He scoffed. Liam still didn't look convinced. "Look, Harry wanted to leave, okay? We're not planning a take-over of any sort. He just wasn't sure about our future here, so he wanted to leave early, before we became too comfortable," he explained and Liam pursed his lips in thought. 

"Why wasn't he sure about your future here?" Liam asked, dropping his hand from the horses coat and moving closer to Louis. Louis could imagine him taking a cigarette out of his pocket, taking a drag as he waited for Louis to answer. He would hand it to Louis to take a drag when Louis stopped explaining, and it would become a thing that they do. Whenever they had something troubling them, they would come out to the stable and unload their thoughts, fears, secrets onto the other while they shared a smoke. 

Louis shook his head, clearing the thought. "He just thought that when supplies ran low, we would be first to go, since Niall's priority is obviously his family. He doesn't want to wait around for that, and he wants to take me since we're a pretty good team, I'm assuming." Liam shook his head with a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "What?" 

"Hamish would be the first to go, one-hundred percent," Liam said, laughter tickling his voice.

"Why?"

"Niall  _hates_  Hamish, and so does Natalie. Cooper just thinks he's stupid," Liam grinned as Louis laughed, a full belly laugh that had his ribs aching. He hadn't laughed like that in a while, and hadn't expected to laugh like that for even longer. Suddenly there were beers on the porch, Natalie joining them, feet propped on Niall's lap. Cooper was sitting on the ground, pretending to read as he listened to the adults, even though it was way past his bed time. They were sharing stories, laughing over memories and gossiping like they were in high school. Niall was talking about Hamish, about how he had done  _everything_  wrong at work that day. Cooper piped up with a quick, "He's very stupid, Dad, I don't like him," that made everybody laugh, even if Cooper didn't understand why. It was nice, warm out, and everyone was feeling giddy. It was happiness.

"Hey, Liam, do you smoke?" Louis asked, watching as Liam hummed in consideration.

"No," he finally decided on. "It's a filthy habit – never have done and never will do." 

Louis nodded as his daydream thinned out like the smoke at the end of a cigarette.

* * *

It happened a little while later. The late afternoon sun was warm, Natalie deciding that everyone could do activities outside. Liam and Niall were playing with Cooper in the sand pit, Hamish was laying in the sun, hat over his eyes and chest heaving with heavy, sleepy breaths and Harry was walking around the perimeter of the property, writing things down and occasionally tapping his Jesus sandal against the fence. Natalie and Louis sat in two chairs, facing the sand pit so she could make sure Liam and Niall weren't corrupting young Cooper. 

They were exchanging stories, of their lives before and what they thought their lives would become. Natalie told Louis she always expected something like this to happen, for an illness to finally drive the human race mad; Louis told her that he usually despised zombie shows based on their lack of realism - little did he know. Natalie talked about her family, about Cooper and the children she still wished to come; Louis told her he has always wanted kids, although now that dream wasn't going to come true - it's not like adoption agencies were up and running during the apocalypse.  

"You never know," Natalie said wistfully, leaning back and closing her eyes. "Miracles do happen." 

They discussed religion, what the apocalypse meant in relation to God and His plan for the human race. Natalie told stories of how she ran around the church as child, wreaking havoc and having old men and women scowl at her. Louis told her how eventually he stopped going to church, because he stopped believing. "It's like accepting your sexuality," Louis told her as he tried to describe how it felt to lose faith. "It starts slowly, questioning yourself and your feelings. Then, it's just a rush of realisation and, often, denial. I finally stopped going to church six whole months after I realised I didn't have faith in Him anymore." 

They told each other their life stories, in small fragments and anecdotes, often having to explain who was in the stories and what they meant to them personally. It was enjoyable, Louis realised, getting to know someone so completely in this way. No matter what happens, no matter if Natalie and Niall decide they need everyone to leave in order to better provide for their child, it would be okay. Looking at Natalie, hearing her voice and the fond way she spoke of her friends and family, it was obvious that she would do anything for the people she loved - he just hoped that this grew to include him eventually. 

The sounds of yelling came not long after, Natalie sitting up in the lounger, Louis following suit. She looked over at Niall, who had stopped making his sand castle and was looking at his wife. They both nodded in sync, quite scary if you ask Louis, and they both got up. "Everyone grab a gun," Niall said as loudly as he could without attracting the attention of whoever was outside. Louis stood up quickly, meeting Harry's eye as they moved to grab their guns from the shed. 

"We're not leaving," he announced, Harry frowning at him in confusion. Louis didn't give him time to question it, moving quickly to stand beside Natalie, gun poised towards the gate. Cooper was inside, doors locked behind him, but he was watching them from one of the upstairs window. 

"Daddy!" He yelled out and Niall's head shot up, frowning and ready to scold. "There's a guy, and there's the things. A lot," he said vaguely. 

"Thank you, Coop. Close the window, now, buddy." Niall replied, gaze intensely focused on the gate. Louis looked up in time to see Cooper close the window and lean up to lock it, but keep peering over the edge of the sill, as if Niall was going to be mad if his full face was visible. Louis fought back a smile. 

"Are we going to let him in?" Natalie whispered to Niall, eyes locked on the fence even as she talked to her husband. 

"Hey, Coop!" Niall yelled out, making Hamish startle and almost fire his gun. Niall shot him a dirty look and Louis was reminded of Liam's confession earlier - Niall doesn't like Hamish. 

"Yes, Dad?" His little voice was hesitant and Louis' heart soared in his chest. 

"How many are there? Can you see?" Niall asked and Cooper yelled back down to him, closing the window promptly after. "More than fifteen, and there's only one guy. He obviously doesn't have a gun, or he would be shooting," Niall observed, and Louis was highly impressed. "I think we-"

Louis stopped listening as he was distracted by Harry nudging his shoulder. "A dangerous operation, Harold, when I'm holding a gun." Harry didn't smile or laugh like Louis was expecting, and he repressed the urge to pout. He did not need to impress Harry in any way and would not be disheartened when Harry frowned at him. Nope, not at all. 

"Why are we staying?" Harry's lips ghosted over Louis' ear and his grip tightened on his gun. Louis turned to look at Harry, meeting his earnest gaze. His eyes were greener than the grass surrounding them, reflecting Louis' confused gaze in his own. 

"Do you trust me?" He asked softly, looking everywhere  _but_  Harry's lips, lest he get the wrong idea, waiting for an answer. Harry's gaze stayed fixed on Louis' eyes. 

"Yes," he finally decided, straightening up, not looking at Louis even when Louis kicked his foot lightly. The urge to pout had to be repressed all over again. 

Louis jumped as he heard something bang into the fence, steadying his stance and hold on the gun, aiming at the gate, finger lightly resting over the trigger. 

"Please, open the gate!" A voice yelled fro the other side, the desperation obvious in his voice, rough from disuse. Natalie and Niall had another of their secret conversations before Niall ran forward and wrenched the gate open, before quickly getting back in place.  A man ran in, slightly struggling to push the door back into place with his thin frame. The lock finally clicked into place, banging coming from the other side a mere second later. The man sagged against the gate, eyes closed in relief, nobody moving a muscle. 

Niall lifted his gun back to his shoulder, readying it to shoot. The man visibly tensed, before opening his eyes, looking shaken - whether it was because of whatever he had to experience out there, or because of the four guns trained on him, Louis wasn't sure. He stepped forward, hands held up in surrender. Louis was sweating slightly, unsure as to what direction Niall was going to take this in. He had taken Harry and Louis in happily, but how far did his hospitality extend? Six mouths were a lot to feed, even with the abundant supplies the Horans had. 

"Liam," Niall finally broke the silence, the stranger fixing his gaze to Niall straight away. "Can you please go get two bow and arrows? Also the fuel and matches." Liam hesitated, eyes locked into the stranger who was now looking between them both, before lowering his gun and moving to follow Niall's orders. 

The tension was thick in the air, nobody but Niall knowing what the next move was going to be. 

"Niall, look at him, he's not-" Hamish started, but Niall cut him off. 

"Have you been bit?" He asked loudly, the stranger looking shocked to have been spoken to. 

"Nothing on me to bite," He laughed at his own joke, bending slightly but not removing his hands from the position above his head. Louis saw a small smile on Natalie's face. "No, I haven't. That's the first big group I've ran into, actually. I've been lucky so far, not really having to deal with many of . . . whatever they are, but I also haven't seen many other people. Gets a bit lonely," he admitted, clearing his throat awkwardly as no one replied, deciding to keep talking. "You see, I lived on a house boat and I don't like to anchor on docks, my father was always paranoid about pirates and stuff, even though it was a house boat, but I agreed with the robbery aspect. So, I was in some random stretch of river which wasn't used as often, so I didn't know what was happening really. I didn't know for a few days, actually, um I was quite - high? for the first few days, it's sort of a tradition of mine, to get me comfortable in a new place."

"You were  _high_  the first few days of the apocalypse?" Louis couldn't keep the laughter from his voice. The stranger's eyes moved to him and he smiled slightly, nodding. Louis couldn't help but laugh, lowering his gun slightly. "Legend." 

"Louis," Natalie scolded lightly, despite the fact that her mouth was twitching, trying to conceal a smile of her own. 

"Keep going." It was Harry that demanded it this time, Niall looking over at him in surprise. He seemed to startle the stranger, who started talking again. 

"It was a few days before I needed to go back into town, and as I was going along the river - I'm going to put my arms down now, if that's okay, they're just tired," he interrupted his own story to put his arm down and sit on the floor, back resting against the fence. "It was obvious something was wrong. Everyone was docked, in the middle of the day on a Saturday. That's not normal, ever. So, I did some exploring, and it was when I finally saw Mr Richards, walking aimlessly around the deck of his boat, that something was wrong. I called out to him and he just barrelled towards me, right over the side of his boat. He fell into the water, but just kept coming. He was making these weird noises and he looked  _ghastly_ , all sunken eyes and weird skin, and he was trying to climb up my boat and bite me. That was super fucking weird, so I hit him with the life saver until he fell and then I moved on." 

"You didn't know what was wrong with him, but you killed him anyway?" Harry spoke up, and the man's eyes met his again. 

"Isn't that what we all did?" Louis asked, frowning at Harry. "Someone was crazed, trying to attack us, and we fought back. We all did it, don't try to fight on moral grounds now." 

"Yes, but I saw the person I killed rip another person's throat out, and I didn't want to be next," Harry retorted, nostrils flaring slightly. "He just saw sunken eyes and weird skin." He scoffed next and Louis' mouth dropped open slightly in disbelief. 

"Why are you being shitty?" Louis demanded and Harry lowered his gun to turn to Louis with a glare. 

"Why are you being prissy?" Harry retorted and Louis fought the urge to step on his stupid toes through his ugly sandals. 

"Can you two save the domestic for later?" Hamish spoke up and he was met with a chorus of "Shut up, Hamish." 

"He has a point," Liam said, coming back with the things Niall asked for, and also Cooper clinging onto his jeans. "He wanted to come and see the 'wild man', as he put it." 

"Cooper," Niall started with a sigh, but the stranger cut him off, waving at Cooper with a wide smile. 

"Hey, mate. Sick shirt," the stranger said and Cooper brightened, moving forward to stand next to his mum, closer to the stranger. 

"This is a fucking disaster," Niall sighed, lowering his gun to rub at his eyes in frustration. "Liam, can you and Harry please go to the lookout points and start shooting the wanderers out there. Make sure you collect the arrows when you're done, but make sure they're actually dead." Harry glared at Louis a moment longer, but joined Liam, thanking him as he passed the bow. 

"You two dating?" The man asked and Harry stopped and turned towards him, looking murderous. 

"No," Louis snapped, resisting the urge to raise his gun again. He doesn't want to be obvious. 

"Oh, are we anti-gay? Am I going to burst into flames if I touch the hallowed ground?" He asked, looking between them all. Louis heard Liam snort, as he was helping Harry with the ladder to the lookout point. 

"No," Natalie assured him. "They're just-" she cut herself off. "Harry and Louis? I don't even know." 

"I'm pretty sure even Niall has kissed a guy before, and he's probably the most heterosexual one here," Louis said, Niall scoffing as Louis laughed at his own joke. 

"Excuse me," Liam called from his spot on the top of the fence. "I have never explicitly stated I'm gay." 

"Liam, the first night we were here, you got drunk and told me all about your homosexual awakening when you were thirteen because you were watching Australian rugby and got a boner for some reason." Niall rolled his eyes and Louis burst out laughing, Natalie joining him. 

"Really, Liam?" Louis laughed, watching as he let an arrow fly, then turned to face Louis. 

"Oh, so yours is so much better?" He demanded. It felt a bit strange, yelling about their homosexual awakenings while Liam and Harry were shooting down zombies and there were still three guns trained to a guy who was sitting on the ground with a wide smile on his face. 

"How about we talk about this later? I don't want to scandalise the Tuman's." Louis announced and Liam nodded. 

"This is fun," he said from the floor, grinning widely. His eyes were squinted from the sun and his smile, his tongue sticking out slightly. He was beautiful, Louis mused, all messy and glowing in the setting sun. "Minus that one part, but nothing's perfect."

"What's your name?" Niall sighed, finally lowering his gun. 

"Zayn Malik, Zayn. Zee to my friends, sometimes," Zayn said and Niall nodded, rubbing at his temples. 

"Come inside then, grab some water. Liam," Niall raised his voice slightly. "Let me know when you've shot them all down and I'll send Hamish to help you get the arrows and then take the bodies away." Liam shouted back an affirmative, Niall taking that as his cue to lead Zayn inside. "Welcome. We had just finished dinner, but there's bread and stuff if you would like something to eat while we talk."

"That would be lovely, thank you," he smiled, walking into the kitchen and looking around. He began looking through cupboards, picking up cans of soup and looking at them with pursed lips before putting them back, and making himself at home. Niall watched him, slack jawed, as he found the bread and took out two slices. "Can I make a sandwich? Do you guys have intense rations? Can I have half a sandwich?" He asked and Louis was overwhelmed. Zayn talked very quickly and asked a lot of questions. He could tell Niall was feeling the same, although he was also slightly affronted by how easily Zayn had acquainted himself with their kitchen. 

"We don't have intense rations, although we do try to be careful with how much we use and of what," Natalie walked in the room, Cooper hanging off her hip. "You can have a sandwich. We have spreads or salads in the fridge if you'd like that." She put Cooper down, who approached Zayn slowly, as if he was a predator that could strike at any moment. 

"Thank you for letting me into your home. It's beautiful," Zayn gushed as he located the peanut butter and then the cutlery to make his sandwich. "I don't think I would have survived out there if it wasn't for you letting me in. Mighty fine establishment you have here too," he let out a low whistle. "That fence is very intimidating. You can't even climb up it."

"That was something we wanted to make sure of when we were having the house built," Niall said, Louis feeling slightly out of place as they spoke about the house. He agreed with Zayn, it was a beautiful and well thought-out house, but he didn't know any technical details that could help with the conversation. 

He excused himself, scooting around Hamish's figure where it was sank into the lounge, and outside. Liam and Harry were still up at the lookouts, down to their last few bows. "Fellas," Louis greeted them as he walked closer. He was met back with controlled grunts as they focused on the task at hand. "Fair enough," Louis muttered to himself. He dug his hands into his pockets and shifted his body slightly until he was rocking back and forth. He kicked at the grass underneath him. 

"You look like you're one American lemonade away from saying 'aw, shucks' and wooing old ladies with your southern twang," Liam observed as he jumped down from the ladder leading to the lookouts. Show off. 

"Oh, alright then, Liam. Why don't you go stare at some footballers?" He retorted and Harry snorted, Louis' eyes twinkling as he turned to face him. "Don't you laugh, bucko. We still haven't uncovered your story yet." 

Harry rolled his eyes, swinging his bow over his shoulder. "A friend in high school dared me to watch gay porn. I liked it and got hard, then I wanked while he watched and I liked that, too." Harry shrugged with a large smile, seeming much more like the Harry Louis had first met, rather than the one he seemed to morph into. He wondered which one was the real one.

"Interesting," Louis observed. "Jerk off with your mates often?" He inquired, regretting it immediately as he saw a wicked grin spread across Harry's face. 

"Only ones I find attractive," he licked his lips and winked and Louis scoffed, begging his neck not to go red. 

"Nice try, Styles." Louis shook his head with a scowl. "Need some help? I'm sure I'm better company than Hamish." 

"Sure," Liam opened the gate, ushering the two other men out. 

Louis wrinkled his nose in distaste as he watched Liam pull an arrow out of one of the corpses' head, wiping the gunk off on his jeans and putting it back in the quiver. "That's gross," Louis complained, wrenching an arrow out of his own. He held back a gag at the noise the arrow made as it left the corpse's head, moving towards Liam to wipe the gunk on his jeans, since there was already some present. 

" _Listen_ ," Liam whacked Louis' hand away from his jeans. 

"You already have shit on them!" Louis retorted, grumbling under his breath at Liam's shitty jeans and stupid combat boots as he wiped the arrow on the grass below him. 

They worked in comfortable silence - well, minus the gooey noises of the arrow leaving the corpses - for a while, before Liam finally cleared his throat and spoke up. "So, are you two definitely leaving?" He asked and Louis saw Harry's hand freeze where it was situated on an arrow. 

"Excuse me?" Harry stood up straight, glaring daggers at Louis. 

"Oh, get the stick out of your ass, Harry. No, Liam, we are not, because  _Harry_  trusts me and what we're doing here. Right, Harold?" Louis turned to look at Harry, who huffed and continued with the work at hand, but didn't answer. Louis didn't understand why one minute he was closed off, the next he was openly flirting, and then he was closed off again. What game was he playing at? Was it a survival technique? Louis didn't know if he could trust Harry when he doesn't know his true motives, or what he is truly like. 

"Not that we have to explain ourselves, but no we are not," Harry huffed, kicking a corpse away after he pulled the arrow out. 

"Good, it would make Niall really upset," Liam's eyes were bright and earnest as he looked between Louis and Harry. "All of us would be upset, actually. You make good additions to the team and it would be so helpful if you stayed." 

"We are," Louis assured him, Liam nodding with pursed lips as he turned away to continue pulling arrows out and wiping them on his jeans. 

Louis could feel Harry's stare on him, but ignored it as he went about the tedious task of gathering the arrows back. Once the arrows had been collected, they began dragging the bodies to a patch of land closer to the makeshift driveway, before dousing them in gasoline and setting the alight. 

As they watched the flames burn, Harry scooted closer to Louis, bumping Louis' hip with his own. "I'm sorry about being an ass before."

"Which time?" Louis scoffed, jumping slightly as Harry lowered his head to rest on Louis'. 

"Each time. It's just stressful, and I don't want either of us to get hurt." He mumbled, noticing the way Liam was purposely angling his body away from them, as if to give them the illusion of privacy. 

"We're safe here, Harry," Louis said softly, nudging Harry's foot with his own in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

"Yeah, but for how long?" Harry moved away from Louis, taking in his profile for a little longer, before turning on his heel and walking back to the house. 

Louis stays and watched the corpses burn.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope y'all liked it, please leave me feedback!   
> i didnt write a zayn pov because im lazy and this was already long enough (easily double-triple the size of anything i would normally write in a chapter) but i'll write more about him later.  
> also i would love to find a beta so please let me know if you'd be interested. you can find me on twitter at @kiwihoweli (it's the social media i use the most)


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